


Saké It To Me

by Kalee60



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Bucky Barnes, Shrunkyclunks, Speed Dating, TeacherBucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalee60/pseuds/Kalee60
Summary: Being roped into speed dating was not how Bucky imagined spending his Friday night, especially when he realises some of these people might just be a little bit over his pay grade.But then Steve sits down, gorgeous, friendly and full of genuine warmth. Within mere minutes he manages to completely charm the pants off Bucky (or so his future self hopes).So why then, after such a strong connection, didn't Steve call him?Cue some self indulgent pining, a meddling housemate and his redhead accomplice, unintentional saké misuse and a surprise revelation of super proportions.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 70
Kudos: 725





	Saké It To Me

**Author's Note:**

> So this little story came from a usual rambling conversation with [ darter_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue) about our obsession with anything Stucky... Seb... Chris... all of it really, when autocorrect struck.
> 
> Somehow the phrase fake dating became saké dating... and within five minutes we had a prompt, a time-frame and a whole lot of crazy fun coming up with two completely different stories with the same underlying theme.
> 
> Check out her fic, [ The Impression(ist) I get](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288329) \- it is absolutely cute as! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy these beautiful boys dating antics!

Bucky wasn't nervous, he was just a little janky, a little wound up, and for some reason his palms were damp… but nope, not nervous. Not. At. All.

He was _ actually _ going to murder Clint for this. Not nice and quick either - he was going to draw it out, make it painful and make him beg for mercy. His housemate was a verified dick of a human being.

Clint was the sole reason he'd been roped in to attend this - _ fiasco _, and all because he wanted to impress one Natasha Romanoff, who was organising said fiasco.

Bi speed dating.

He didn’t even know it was a thing, though to be fair he did live under a rock most of the time.

Obviously it was brilliant (because Bucky was _ not _ a dick of a human being), the whole concept a fun way to meet other bi people in a friendly non-judgmental place. Usually Bucky would be commending such a thing, but only if he wasn't involved. Clint, once again, was dead to him.

Dating in general wasn’t something Bucky felt overly comfortable with. Well, he liked what could come from dating someone, but the awkwardness of trying to make small talk, getting to know each other, then the whole mind numbing stress of figuring out if you liked what little you'd learned enough to pursue something further, was not one of the things he enjoyed doing on a regular basis. Sex though, he would like to enjoy on the regular, but that generally came hand in hand with dating. He'd tried a casual app once - never again. He liked his sex more… personal, which was apparently a strange concept in this day and age. When in the world did hooking up become a sport?

All in all, breaking his arm two weeks earlier was less painful than a room full of strangers on whom he had to try and make a stellar first impression.

As he arrived at the door, he blanched and almost turned on his heel to leave, apparently he didn't get the memo to wear a goddamn suit and tie either. Clint was… what was more than dead - the deadest?

Looking down morosly at his dark skinny jeans (no holes, thank fuck) a dark green button down (because, James - your eyes just pop in it, {thanks Wanda}) and scuffed boots; he just hoped he wasn't going to get kicked out or mistaken for a delivery man. All misgivings aside, Bucky knew he looked good, _ great _ in fact, even if he wasn’t suited up. He'd even managed to pull his hair into a half bun, which with his left arm in a sling, was as good as he could do one handed.

Sighing deeply, he dredged up some dutch courage and pushed open the door.

At least the Japanese bar the speed dating was being held in was funky. He'd actually been meaning to try it out, but it was newly opened and constantly booked with a long line out the door. He idly wondered who Natasha was and how she could book out the entire second floor on a Friday night. How much were these people paying to be here? More than him, because he paid exactly squat. Bucky still wasn’t certain if this was a positive or not.

The first thing he noticed was the majority of people (dates?) surrounding the bar, chatting and eyeing each other off. Bucky was surprised yet pleased to see a great range of sexes, ages and physiques in the room, this could actually turn out alright.

Just as Bucky went to buy an Asahi to quell his rising nerves, a stunning redhead cut him off at the pass.

“Why hello…” she trailed off in question, brow arched and meaning business.

“Um, Buck… James. James Barnes." Why in hell was he suddenly stuttering?

The woman looked down at her clipboard, tapping her pen on the paper, he twitched with each tap. Her name tag stated Natasha, Clint was not even batting on the same planet as this woman. 

“You're not on the list.” She said matter of fact and he felt all the blood leave his face. Oh, for the love of Christ, Clint was going to be obliterated. Where was the traitor? He couldn't see him in the crowd.

“Ok,” he could do this, make his retreat like he’d accidentally walked into the wrong bar - surely there was a joke in there somewhere. “Yep, well that's cool, I'll just,” he motioned over his shoulder.

“Oh no, tiger, _ you’re _ not going anywhere.” She grabbed his hand then dragged him to the bar where a small cup of saké was placed before him. Green eyes assessed him from top to toe and he suddenly felt vulnerable, like she was sizing him up ready to kill him in two hundred different ways.

“Drink. I'm Natasha.”

“I figured,” and motioned towards her chest where the name tag sat. She frowned. Fuck, he was better than this. Bucky took a tentative sip, and at the growl of displeasure beside him, threw it back in one mouthful.

“Better.” she responded, then proceeded to slap him on the shoulder as he coughed. Better in what way?

“Uh, Clint should be -”

She held up a hand stopping him mid-sentence, then seemed to reassess her earlier look. Once again her eyes trailed up and down his body, with a hint of a pleased smirk this time.

“Clint, hey? Looks like he came through for me finally.” Natasha rolled her eyes. Strangely, it seemed fond, not exasperated. Perhaps she and Clint _ were _ on the same planet, different continents though - completely. He missed what Natasha said next due to a waitress placing another saké in his hand. Service was A-plus so far. Were drinks included? He had no idea about any of this or how it worked.

“Err, sorry - what was that?”

“Clint is running late, so enjoy your saké, James. But more importantly, enjoy meeting new people. Who knows, you might even find a Captain to walk your plank.”

Bucky screwed up his face, what did that even mean? Was she throwing out sexual innuendos? Sexual _ pirate _ innuendos? Natasha was a little odd, he decided, therefore, maybe not so far out of Clint’s orbit after all.

He watched her disappear into the crowd towards a broad person who had people milling around them. _ Someone _ was clearly popular. Bucky didn’t let his eyes linger, he wasn’t usually drawn to the masses or the ‘in’ crowd. He liked dark corners, soft voices and common interests; not trying to vy for attention from someone. He couldn’t help but case the joint as he drank his second saké, was there a way out that didn’t involve walking past a bright intense redhead? How big were the windows in the toilets? Could he get away with murdering Clint in his sleep? All extremely important questions.

The bell rang just as he was about to approach a long haired guy who looked interesting, so he found his seat instead, nodding at a few people as he concentrated on the slightly uneven flooring.

As a woman with short blonde hair and a wide smile sat before him, Bucky's heart started to race, damn his nerves. He wrestled 6 year olds for a living, he could chat for 5 minutes with 30 different people without dying. 

At least they wouldn't be putting sticky hands all over him… he smiled back at her warmly. Well, not unless he hit it off with someone anyway.

“I'm Brock.”

“Hey Brock, I'm James.”

The dark haired man who on first impressions looked rather tasty, scoffed.

“So, my names funny?” he couldn’t help but ask, waiting for a cute anecdote, and hopefully one that didn’t start with, ‘you share the same name as my dead husband’. It had happened before.

“Nah, I just seem to keep banging men named James, welcome to the list.”

Bucky blinked once.

“Not fucking likely,” he said under his breath.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, I said that sounds extremely likely,” then gave Brock (or also now known as Cock) finger guns. Brock's leer indicated he didn't catch on to the sarcasm. Oh goody. The muffled laugh which came from behind Bucky seemed to be directed at their conversation. Double goody.

Bucky itched to look over his shoulder to see who was getting so much enjoyment from his predicament, but that would be rude and he had another four minutes of the asshole (sorry, A-Grade piece of man-meat) in front of him.

Bucky sculled his small cup of saké, a waitress appeared immediately refilling it and he only just refrained from grabbing her arm to ask her to leave the ceramic bottle behind.

This is exactly why he hated dating.

“So, babe, what do you do for crust?”

_ Babe? _ Oh for the love of God. “Oh, I usually order it online, also get a garlic bread. I prefer thin and crispy with extra anchovies - you?”

“Err, what?” Brock’s brow did not look cute furrowed, he looked constipated, which was a win in Bucky’s book.

He was about to answer when once more he heard stifled laughter behind him. Bolstered that somebody was at least enjoying his sarcasm, he hoped he was giving a good show. Was it rude to try and make an eavesdropper laugh more than trying to impress the dickwad before him.

Absofuckinglutely not.

“Work, I asked what you did for work.” Brock reiterated, slowly.

“Oh, sorry, misunderstood.” Christ, he really wanted to say 'pizza delivery man' but it was just _ way _ to obvious. He actually decided on truth. “I'm a kindergarten teacher.”

Cock just stared a moment. “What... with, like kids and stuff?”

Jesus, where did Natasha find this guy. “Well, yes, generally. But,” Bucky leaned in conspiratorial making Brock move forward in his seat, “some adults could fall into the kindergarten category too.”

Everything was quiet for less than 3 seconds.

“The fuck? I'm out.”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked incredulously. If anyone was out, he was.

“I hate kids. Next.”

The douchebag even raised his hand to try and get someone's attention so he could leave. Unbelievable.

Bucky took another shot of saké and smirked.

“Well, it's good to see that all your manners aren't lost. Yes, Brock? What would you like to share?”

“What the hell?” The constipated look was back and Bucky almost fist pumped the air.

“You raised your hand in the air, and as a teacher - that's like catnip to a cat.”

“You're fucking weird, I'm taking a piss.” Brock stood up quickly and left.

Bucky rubbed his face and chuckled into his palms, hearing a sharp bark of laughter from his unseen audience. Well that was... entertaining.

"Oh thank God, someone else didn't get the suit memo."

Bucky smiled, finishing up his notes on an intense yet compelling lady named Jessica, before looking up and meeting the bluest of blue eyes on a face so damn beyond anything his fantasies could ever have imagined. His stomach alighted with butterflies and there was no way he was going to be able to speak without drool escaping. He was, for the first time in his life - speechless.

Taking a second to recalibrate, Bucky roamed his eyes over the vision before him, being treated to short blonde hair just long enough on top to flop adorably, a chiseled jaw and a face to match before trailing down to impossibly broad shoulders and the deep blue button down the man wore. Ok, wore was a redundant word for how the shirt clung to the smoking hot, I-need-to-bend-over-and-eat-his-ass-out-for-days man.

It was when he received a shy uncertain half smile, which almost broke his brain - _ jeez _, being on the receiving end of such a thing was dangerous, Bucky realised he'd not responded. And by god he wanted to respond, with his mouth performing unspeakable acts preferably.

_ Respond you idiot! _

Bucky swallowed his saké in one go, it burnt all the way down. How many had he had? Four? With watering eyes and a quirk to his lips which he hoped came over flirty and not like a grimace, he held out his hand.

"I’m Bucky, nice to meet someone else who also doesn't read the fine print."

The man shook his hand firmly, his smile sliding into a small frown and Bucky desperately wanted to smooth it away. This god of men did _ not _ look constipated when he furrowed his brow, he looked like a kicked puppy. What on earth had he said to receive such a look? His joke wasn’t that terrible - surely.

"Sorry, I… just thought your name was James."

Oh shoot, he’d forgotten he was giving his _ actual _ first name to people, a habit with strangers and his job; the gorgeous blonde must have overheard him say it to others. Bucky had lost his train of thought, (honestly not his fault, in the face of all that… face) and _ wanted _ to give this man his chosen name. Actually, if he were being brutally honest, he wanted to hear this man say it, repeatedly. Hopefully as he pounded into him naked and sweaty.

He’d never reacted so viceraly to anyone before, it was disconcerting and also very thrilling. _ Get back in the moment, Buck. _

"Err, well yeah, officially it is. But my friends call me Bucky."

It was the right thing to say as the man’s face transformed with a beaming smile. Bucky’s stomach swooped in the most glorious way.

They sat in silence for a couple of seconds until Bucky raised an eyebrow, gesturing for a name in return. Blondie was cute, but clearly didn’t really get the whole social cues business. Blue eyes widened slightly before another genuine grin took over, and if Bucky hadn’t been seated he was certain his knees would have given way. Fuck, this man was criminal, he couldn't be for real.

"Oh, you weren’t here before, then? I mean, when people first arrived and introductions were made?” At the shake of Bucky’s head, his grin brightened tenfold, “It's, um, yeah - I’m Steve...”

He seemed to be waiting for Bucky to respond, or recognise the name which seemed odd but he just shrugged. If he’d ever met Steve before, there was no way in hell he’d forget. He seemed familiar but in an abstract, ’he must look like someone famous’ kind of way.

"Nice to meetcha, Steve."

The blonde’s shoulders appeared to loosen as he settled into the chair, posture becoming more open, then his blue eyes laser focused on Bucky’s face, making him gulp. “Likewise, Bucky. So you work with kids?”

Ugh, his name on this man’s lips - it was going straight to the spank bank. Along with everything else he presented (don’t think about presenting… _ you creep _). “Ha, you overheard that exchange? Good ears - I guess then you’re ready to run for the hills, or the toilet?”

Steve chuckled. Maybe _ he _ was the eavesdropper? Nah, he seemed the type that gave his full attention to the person before him. Pity - Bucky would have loved to have been the one making Steve laugh. But he also relished the idea of Steve only having eyes for him, even if it was for five minutes.

“I think _ everyone _ heard that exchange, but nope, not running. I actually love kids. I’ve been known to visit the children's ward at the local hospital from time to time, see if there is anything I can help with, give the kids some attention.”

Was this guy serious? He actually could not be. This level of perfection just did not exist. Suddenly aware he was on a tight timeframe, had it been a minute yet, or two? Bucky found himself unable to filter his mouth.

“Not being rude, but why the hell do you need to be at speed dating?” Bucky gestured at everything Steve was. Which was a lot. 

The fond smile and returning wave Bucky’s direction, dried his mouth of all moisture, “well, the same could _ definitely _ be said of you.”

Was that a compliment? Was this man, this perfect specimen of a man actually complimenting him? Too bad, he was totally taking it as a compliment. It would keep him warm on the nights when he thought back to how he muffed up this 5 minute date. _ Shit _, he was starting to feel really tipsy, was he coming across drunk? He was definitely looser in the speech department. 

"Actually, I'm here with a friend. I’m supposed to be pumping his tyres, so to speak."

The robust laugh was actually unfair, glorious and slightly familiar. It made his pants tighten immediately, Bucky moved in his seat to relieve some of the discomfort of getting half hard in public. Tablecloths were his new favourite thing.

Did he just... _ oh crap _ \- he did, Steve's eyes widened. When he shifted, Bucky had somehow tangled his foot around not _ his _ own ankle, but Steve's. He went to pull away but his saké addled brain felt resistance. Did Steve tighten his grip around Bucky’s ankle? What the hell was in these drinks? Hallucinogens? A wry laugh from Steve, pulled him from his saké induced delirium.

"Same, I was dragged here by a friend, Nat. I find it hard to meet new people, so this is a good way to do it according to her. I wasn’t sold on the idea, but I’m changing my mind. Look, I need to know - what does that mean? Pumping his tyres?"

Bucky ducked his head, cheeks red at hearing Steve say ‘hard’ and ‘pumping’ in quick succession, _ focus _. "It's something I picked up from an Australian buddy. I guess it translates loosely to 'I'm here to make Clinton look good', like pump his tyres so he's the best car in the lot. Actually it's a pretty shitty analogy… um, I'm here because my asshole best friend wants to look less like a disaster in front of a lady, who by my estimations is much too good for him…"

The laugh burst forth again, doing things to Bucky. Carnal things.

"Clinton?" Steve asked with a questioning look.

"Yeah, also the worst roommate in the world. Do you know him?"

"No, I don’t believe so."

"That's the absolute best way to know him."

Steve's eyes twinkled, mouth curving in a carefree smile, he looked to be enjoying himself. Was he? Oh, god, Bucky’s cup was full of saké again. This waitress was either attentive to the letter or hoping paralytically drunk patrons tipped better. 

“What happened to your arm?"

Bucky snorted, knowing he looked abashed then shrugged his shoulders before launching into the story about his nephew Lincoln's skateboard, a rail and that wonderful thing called gravity.

"So now it's colloquially known as 'Bucky Hawk's no-pro skater', I have it on DVD if you want a copy."

"I just might have to see it sometime."

Bucky hoped like hell that meant _ with _ Bucky - on a couch, after screwing each other senseless for three days straight - and not Steve seeing it on funniest home videos one day.

They continued to chat about growing up in Brooklyn (Bucky thrilled to learn this tid-bit), their shared love for the cooking channel and Steve held his chest in laughter at Bucky’s story about the attempted croquembouche.

“I swear I followed the recipe to the letter, it looked like a drooping melted tree, Dali would have been proud at the bend in it. Tasted great though - so not a complete loss.”

Bucky was in a happy bubble of flirting and enjoying Steve’s dry sense of humour. He took another sip of saké, head actually spinning this time, he placed it back still almost full.

"Ok, is it just me, but is this saké super strong?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, alcohol doesn't really affect me." Steve shrugged his huge shoulders and Bucky couldn't help but watch their trajectory. Even his goddamn shoulders were a work of art.

“Oh, crap.”

“What is it?” Steve asked concisely, looking around them, searching for trouble. Bucky smiled, seemed Steve might have knight in shining armour complex.

“Stand down, Superman, I just figured out why the saké is hitting me. I took the last of my painkillers about two hours ago, for this,” Bucky held up his slinged arm, “probs shouldn’t be mixing it with alcohol.”

Steve narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, “no, you shouldn’t be. How did you get here? You didn’t drive did you?”

“Nah, I caught a Lyft. All good - I’m fine.” The room tilted a little. _ Shit _. “I’m not complaining, but does this feel longer than the other 5 mintues we got tonight?”

His ankle was squeezed slightly and his breath rushed out of him, “maybe… but honestly... I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed out, then barrelled on while he had the courage, “so did you want to maybe -”

The bell rang, interrupting what Bucky knew was going to be a really smooth line. Steve looked sharply over to where Natasha sat, finger on the bell and a smirk gracing her features; then scowled at her before his face resumed a pleasant demeanor as he looked back to him. Bucky wondered what his relationship with Natasha was.

"It was nice chatting with you," Steve said as he rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. Bucky was charmed, "like really nice," he huffed out a laugh, "I mean I just felt like I could be myself, you know?"

Bucky grinned back, "yeah, I get it, same for me."

_ Don't hiccup _, do not hiccup. Bucky hiccuped.

Steve laughed, "enjoy your next dates.” 

Bucky's stomach plummeted, he didn't want any other dates, just the one in front of him. Instead, he smiled in a way he hoped indicated he was not just interested but ready to propose.

Steve's eyes softened and he reached over and squeezed Bucky’s hand. “And don’t drink anymore."

Bucky saluted jauntily, then Steve was gone, ankles untangled and a forlorn feeling left in his gut. The man from the bar earlier sat down, introducing himself as Foggy, and Bucky plastered a smile on his face and greeted him.

A few minutes later, he noticed five people get up and leave quickly, Steve amongst them. What was happening? But everyone kept going on with their dates and Bucky watched broad shoulders walk out the door and sighed.

Was love at first sight a thing?

Bucky woke with a violent start, pillow stuck to his face and a thumping headache mimicking being sat next to a huge speaker at a drum & bass concert all night.

"Merumph… bleh." He started, then stopped. His brain did not want to play. Why in hell did he feel like the bottom of a foot that had just walked through a pile of dead fish? Fish that had been in the sun rotting for eight weeks…

He dry retched at the imagery.

Saké… it was the saké. And Clint, who'd decided to turn up just as Bucky slurred his way through a very active conversation with a wickedly sharp woman called… Marcy? No - Darcy. They ended up sloshed under the table with an amused Clint and Natasha looking on. 

Bucky had made a new friend in her. Not a special ‘I want to see you naked friend’, but an actual friend. She was hung up on someone called Jane from her work and he wanted… oh Lord - Steve.

Steve… who Bucky knew with certainty he’d made up in his imagination. A man like that did not exist in New York. No one was that sweet, single or would laugh at Bucky’s jokes like they actually enjoyed them. 

Why didn’t he listen to his inner voice, and Steve to be honest, and stop drinking? He was a masochist, clearly he enjoyed hang-overs - this one might even get marked down on the calendar.

Whistling up the hallway proceeded a way too chirpy smile and the blessed smell of caffeine coming into his room.

“Are you whistling, ‘believe it or not’?” Bucky managed to snarl, head burrowed in his pillow and an arm blocking one ear. Clint was still too loud, and still damn well whistling the TV theme.

“Got it in one Buckaroo, everyone loves the Greatest American Hero. Wouldn’t you say?”

Bucky glared and made a grabby motion for the cup of coffee Clint held just out of reach. “Your obsession with TV shows from the 80s is unparalleled. I don’t get you, or your warped sense of humour. And you are an ass by the way.” 

“Aww, I’m always an ass, and you love those shows too, you can’t deny it, Mr ‘I have a raging hard-on for Magnum PI’.”

“Do not dis The Stache. You know there are always exceptions to the rule. And by the way, last night was horrific - stop withholding my coffee, man.”

“Oh, really? Horrific in what way? That you may have met your sass-mate in Darcy and then from what Natasha told me, someone else made a _ large _impression on you.”

Bucky groaned, if only he got an impression of something large against him. He was never going to see Steve again. Unless -

Bucky grabbed his phone, "shit. do you think Steve..."

“What was that?”

“Turn up your hearing aid if you want to hear me the first time, Chucklehead.”

Clint smirked at him. He flipped the bird in return.

“Your sign language needs work.”

With a chuckle, his housemate thankfully left the coffee and departed, whistling the Star Spangled Banner which pierced Bucky’s eardrums, Clint was still a dick. Taking a sip of the heavenly brew, he saw seven text messages and an email from Natasha.

He opened the email to see that he had matched with twenty one of the thirty people present (quite a confidence boost) but as he only put eight of those people mutually down as a yes, he would only receive their contact details. He didn't click on to see who he matched with, wanting to read the texts first. His heart thumped as he thumbed open the first text and instantly his face split in a huge grin.

**Unknown:** _ Hey hot-stuff, let's get coffee and bitch about all the losers who order whipped cream on their drinks. _

He knew within the first minute of their date last night that he and Darcy would become friends, and he was thrilled to hear from her. Bucky laughed and responded, she was one of hopefully two good things to come from the night before.

**Buck:** _ Excuse me - I’m one of those bitches - extra whipped cream on mine... I also like fifteen spoons of sugar and chocolate dusting - dark chocolate, and skim milk, watching my figure you know. _

He quickly went through the other texts, Foggy, Jessica and Carol all had sent nice to meet you texts, actually Foggy sent him three messages - all the same. The lawyer was sweet and Bucky wondered a moment on why he was reluctant to organise a catch up with any of these people (Darcy aside). The whole point of a speed-dating night, even though he actually didn’t sign up for it, was to meet people and date them, find a connection.

Trouble being - he made a connection, one which he wanted to heavily pursue. But, he had no messages from Steve.

Obviously he could message Steve - if they matched that was. _ Oh no _, had Steve not put him down as a yes? 

**Darcy: ** _ you pretentious prick, I’ll send you deets, we’ll do it this week. _

**Buck: ** _ done - no saké though… like ever again… ever... _

He pulled up Natashas email and his heart sank, Steve’s number was not listed. They’d matched according to the info, but there was no phone number. Two seconds later, after reading the message properly, he saw a sgr@shield email address, and he was suddenly back in the game, idly wondering what Steve did for a living at SHIELD. Was he an analyst? Did he work in HR? Maybe a security guard, with muscles like his, that was a possibility.

_ Hey Steve, _

_ Bucky here, from last night - speed-dating. I mean obviously. Unless you met another Bucky last night which to be honest I would be impressed with. I’m digressing. So, just want to say I really enjoyed meeting you last night and if it’s not too forward I’d love to catch up for a coffee and get to know you better. I mean, if you don’t drink coffee, then tea, chocolate or water - not fussed really. Now I’m rambling about drink choices. _

_ Ok, I need to wrap this up, my numbers below, give me a call if you want. _

_ Look forward to hearing from you soon. _

_ Speed-dating Bucky (not the other one). _

He hit send and then wanted to retract it immediately. He sounded like the biggest dork in the world, but if he were being honest, that’s who he was. His phone chirped a second later and Bucky all but threw his phone across the room in surprise. Heart in his throat, he opened the lock screen.

**Darcy: ** _ you ordered the bottle - don’t blame me. Hope your hotbod stud muffin with an ass so tight you could bounce quarters off it texted you x _

Sighing, Bucky dropped the phone down on his comforter and rubbed his tired eyes hard enough to see spots. He had lesson plans to work on, a housemate to grill and a headache to resolve pronto. 

Now the trick was not to sit and wait for a Steve related reply. It was going to do his head in. He just knew it.

Almost a week later, Bucky had given up all hope of hearing from Steve. Ultimately he was impressed that he hadn’t followed up the email with another fifteen, begging for a date - but he had his pride, well sort of. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d checked that the email had actually been delivered. It was now getting embarrassing.

But in the meantime, while not checking his phone and emails a thousand times a day, he’d been chatting to Foggy and Carol, enjoying their conversations. Nothing about meeting had come up from them, and although Bucky wasn’t going to suggest it, he wouldn’t say no if either asked him out. But he still didn’t hear from the one person he craved.

It was Wednesday night and he’d just come through the door. His day had been pretty spectacularly shit after a chickenpox outbreak had half his class off sick, or on their way out. Tempers were through the roof and attention spans dwindled to nothing (though to be fair, in 6 year olds it wasn’t great anyway). To top it off, the canteen had run out of apple pie slices, something he’d been looking forward to all day, and a parent had yelled at him - mistaking him for another teacher, and didn’t bother to apologise. So the last thing he needed was to find Clint home with a date. It was the icing on his lonely cake.

“Hey James.” Natasha drawled, giving him a little finger wave from the couch.

“Buckman! Welcome home!” Clint was way too happy. It was relatively grating, more so than usual.

He managed a rueful smile on his way to the kitchen. “Hey Natasha. Clint.”

The fridge was bereft of anything except beer, cold chicken and Thai takeaway from the previous week. Shit, even their leftovers lasted longer than his relationships. Ok, now he was being overly dramatic.

Cracking a beer, he went back to the lounge and flopped in the single seater. “What you kids watching?”

Natasha side-eyed him at his words, then sighed loudly, “Clint said I _ have _to watch something called Brooklyn 99.”

“Jeez Clint, you _ are _ trying to impress her,” he aimed this at his housemate who looked smug at having an arm around Natasha, “usually he makes me watch reruns of Buck Rogers.”

Natasha burst into laughter and Clint looked at her incredulously, like he’d never seen her laugh before. “Oh, that is beyond absolutely perfect.”

“What is?” He asked, as Jake Peralta and Rosa bantered on screen. Rosa was his favourite.

“Doesn’t matter, just something about that tickled me. So, have many _ dates _ this week?”

Natasha’s tone was casual, but her gaze was anything but. Bucky shifted in his seat, once again feeling like he was about to be interrogated by the redhead.

“Err, been texting a couple of people, catching up with Darcy for coffee tomorrow, that’ll be cool.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed, “Who exactly?”

Bucky didn’t really want to say, but he was actually concerned for his safety if he didn’t answer. “Foggy and Carol. They’re nice people.”

“That’s it?” she now sounded angry and Bucky took a gulp of beer.

“Uh - well I emailed someone else, but never heard from him. So yeah - that’s it.”

Natasha’s sigh reverberated throughout the room, (how she could do that was beyond him) and with a soft, ‘I’ll be right back’ she left the room, phone to her ear. A quiet terse conversation occurred in the next room and when Bucky looked to Clint he shrugged.

“Who knows, man.”

“I was going to cook up the leftover chicken into a pasta-bake - want me to make enough for us all?”

“Will you add the chilli paste you made?”

“Of course.”

“Fuck yes, I was going to impress Tasha with pizza from Joe’s pizza, but your cooking is so much more impressive.”

“Don’t call me Tasha,” Natasha breezed back in. “pasta sounds lovely James, thank you. Do you need help?”

“Nah, I can manage one armed, and Clint, who the hell impresses a date with Joe’s pizza? You should at least use coupons and get Dominos.” Bucky chuckled as he left the room, hearing Clint ask if ‘Tash, Nat or Sascha was ok’. They were not.

He’d just pulled out the ingredients for the sauce he was going to make, when his phone rang. He swore to god if it was Clint calling to ask for a drink refill, he was going to look for a new housemate. But there was an unknown number on his screen. 

He never received phone calls and almost didn’t answer; for some reason, this time, he did.

“Uh, hello?”

“Oh, great, you answered, you have no idea how many people don’t answer a call these days, why have a phone if you don’t pick up… oh, um, this is Jame... Bucky? Right?” The voice on the other end of the line very deep, sounding flustered.

“I’m afraid to say yes, but, yep, I’m Bucky. Just saying though, if you’re a telemarketer - you need to work on your spiel.”

The laughter which casaded through the phone could belong to only one human in existence. “Steve?” Was Steve finally freaking calling after almost a week?

“Yeah, Buck, it’s Steve. How you been?”

Bucky didn’t actually know how to answer, probably ‘pining for you’, wouldn’t really sound like he was all that well adjusted.

“Oh, fine, yeah fine. Steve?” the answering hum bolstered him, “I, uh, I didn’t actually expect to hear back from you…”

There was silence for a beat where Bucky had a horrible suspicion Steve had hung up but he heard a muted groan of frustration.

“Uh, I’m so sorry - I was out on a work… thing for a few days and I am terrible at checking emails. But I really wanted to hear from you, was hoping you would contact me, but then like an idiot I didn’t even look at my emails, honestly I forgot that my number wasn’t given out until a friend reminded me to check… and like a chump, I just realised this second I could have got your details through the email and rang first... and I’m rambling.” Bucky heard a long deep breath, “I’m glad you picked up.”

How could he be so utterly besotted and charmed once again over a voice on the end of a phone? Steve sounded so nervous and Bucky just wanted to put him at ease.

“I’m glad you called me, really glad.”

“Oh,” Steve’s breathless answer sounded surprised and pleased. “Just so you know, I always intended to get in contact, how could I not?”

Steve’s directness was a nice change from the usual run around he received, but it was also slightly disconcerting. Should he be just as honest back? Or play his cards close to his chest? What was the right thing to do?

This was why he didn’t date.

But for Steve, for the slight chance that this could go somewhere, he would try.

“So how were the rest of your dates?” _ Good one, Buck _, ask him how he liked other people he dated that night. Smooth, real smooth.

The chuckle brought him from his internal facepalm, “to be honest, I don’t really remember anyone before or after you. Is that rude to the others? Yeah, that’s rude.”

Bucky laughed, “that’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever been given.”

“It’s the truth.”

Bucky was once again struck by Steve’s forthright demeanor, he decided he liked it. “Look I hope this isn’t too direct, but did you want to meet -”

“- I’d love to meet if you do.”

They laughed at talking over the other, when Bucky realised they were asking the same thing.

“Wanna meet?” he tried again.

“I’m up for coffee, tea, chocolate, water - whatever.”

They worked out a place to meet the following week, then chatted about their days for a bit, finding out a little more about the other over the course of Bucky making dinner. When Steve told him he wasn’t much of a cook and was impressed at Bucky making a meal for other people, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Pal, I’m making pasta, it’s not rocket science or even hard. But thanks for pumping my tyres.”

Steve cracked up, and Bucky thought it the most wonderful sound on the planet.

He was a fucking sap.

Bucky was fairly certain he was going to die of blue balls. Not sexual blue balls, but the type you get by being so worked up over a simple string of conversations every day that the excitement built each time the phone rang. Instead of the feeling dissipating when they finally said ‘goodnight’ it continued to grow.

The last week had tested Bucky’s resolve, he’d not once turned their conversations sexual, though he’d thought about it, more than once. He and Steve were getting to know each other one call at a time, and it was magnificent. They clicked in a way Bucky never had with anyone. It was heady and flattering that Steve seemed just as infatuated as he was.

As he sat in the coffee shop waiting for Steve, Bucky tried to still his shaking hand by sipping a latte. There was so much more riding on this date than the breezy catch up with Darcy the week before. He was practically vibrating out of his skin in anticipation, hoping the caffeine would help calm him since he’d arrived half an hour early. He now had time to centre himself, to stop being so buzzed out of his head and to look like a well put together adult.

“Bucky?” 

He dropped the cup down, it clattered loudly on the saucer and he almost choked on his mouthful. Steve was early. Bucky looked up and up, then up some more. Steve stood there, cheeks slightly coloured and a hopeful grin on his face. He was utterly breathtaking and as Bucky stared like a dolt, he realised something.

Steve was not _ just _ Steve.

In the light of day, he saw it clearly. The baseball cap hid nothing, (like that was ever a good disguise) but the body, the stance, the face.

“Holy, fuck, Steve. You’re Captain America.”

Steve’s face fell just a moment, before flushing red. A chagrined expression soon replaced it and he looked around nervously, like Bucky had outed him. How in hell could Bucky do that? Fucking Captain America was right in front of him and he’d been flirting like mad with him for the past week. Mortified, he rubbed his hands over his eyes. Surely it was a trick of the light.

“Er, yeah, I guess I am. Surprise..?” Steve trailed off in a question, he sounded nervous and Bucky melted just a little.

Steve hovered uncertainty over the opposite side of the table and, taking pity on him, Bucky gestured for him to sit. Watching Steve fold himself into a plastic coffee shop chair was much more amusing than he thought it could be, but he kept his face impassive - he was, after all, still utterly confused.

The one thought that kept circling in his addled brain - how in hell did he not recognise Steve was, well, shit, _ Steve Rogers _ at speed-dating? 

“You must think I am the biggest dunce in the world, that saké was damn potent for me not to…” He waved at Steve, then took another sip of coffee. “Well, I mean obviously you're freaking gorgeous, that’s a given,” he noted Steve’s eyes widen slightly at the compliment, “I just didn’t connect the dots, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve replied earnestly, then looked like he was going to say more, but stayed quiet.

“So why didn’t you say anything?” Bucky asked, curious, not angry.

He drank the rest of the latte and having nothing left to occupy his attention, he just stared wide-eyed at the man waiting for an answer. Christ, he still wanted to throw Steve on the ground and fuck him absolutely raw. That hadn’t changed. It was probably against the law to think that of a national treasure though. Fuck it, he’d think about it _ and _in technicoulour if he wanted. He was certain he would only have his imagination from this point to warm him on cold nights.

His drink was also _ not _ alcoholic, and that in itself presented a problem. He needed scotch, something to take the edge off, even though it was only eleven in the morning. Considering it was alcohol that landed him in this situation, it probably shouldn’t be his go-to remedy. _ Damn it. _

“I mean, honestly?” Steve finally said after staying quiet too long to be comfortable. “I meant to say something, but at the beginning of speed-dating when I walked in, people recognised me immediately, so suddenly everyone in the room knew who I was. And then you sat before me, all gorgeous with crinkling eyes and a wide smile, but you didn’t recognise me at all. It was refreshing, nice, it was, jeez, Bucky it was like I was Steve again. You were interested in _ me _, not what mission I was on, or how much I could lift, you were the first person to not ask me if I still eat boiled chicken to reminisce.”

Bucky knew his mouth gaped, Steve thought he was gorgeous, _ him _! He needed to say something, “to be fair, boiled chicken, shredded on a bed of vermicelli with satay and green onions, is actually pretty damn tasty.”

Steve snorted, and Bucky ran a hand over his face, he was a certified dolt.

“God, you have no idea do you? How you affect… Look, Steve, not going to lie, I _ do _ wonder how much you can lift. For science, obviously.”

Steve’s chuckle went right to his toes. “Obviously. Seriously though, people have this whole _ idea _ of me, who I am, how I should speak, act, perform even. It makes it so hard to just be... me.”

“Right, I mean that makes sense, you _ are _ relatively famous.” Bucky stopped, he was an idiot, _ relatively _ ? The man before him, although flushing a wonderful shade of pink, was in the Smithsonian for christ sake. Whole history books were dedicated to him and Bucky just casually remarked he was _ relatively famous. _

“Oh is this a problem… I mean, do you not want to…” Steve gestured between the two of them.

“Umm. Oh, I’m not sure?” How was that even a sentence?

But the words Bucky spewed forth made Steve’s shoulders slump. Oh, _ hell no _, that was not his intent here at all.

“No, shit, no, I mean, crap - ugh. _ I'm _ sure, but jeez you're an Avenger, what the hell could you want with a kindergarten teacher from Brooklyn?”

Steve's eyes softened exponentially, his hand reached across the table to rest on Bucky’s. “What I want right now is to get a coffee to go, then take a walk with you, chat, potentially try and flirt, then hopefully if I am charming enough and don’t make a fool of myself, I’d like to kiss you - since I’ve thought about nothing else since I met you.”

Bucky knew he didn't let out a squeak, he absolutely did not.

He squeaked.

They made it about fifteen minutes into their walk when Bucky caved. The anticipation was killing him. He couldn’t take another step, another sideways glance with flushed cheeks without knowing for a doubt what Steve’s lips felt like against his.

“Steve?” 

The blonde stopped, turning his body towards Bucky, unfailingly polite. His eyebrow curved up in question. “I don’t want to wait, I think I'm incapable of waiting any longer.”

He grasped Steve’s jacket lapel with one hand (since the other was still caught in a sling and holding his coffee) and pulled forward. The raw want on the blonde’s face filled him with wonder as their lips met, and Bucky was pleased he only had to slant up minimally to slot their mouths against the other. Steve's lips were soft and warm and oh so inviting. Bucky was officially going to die like this, _ actually _, he planned to go out this way. Steve groaned into his mouth and Bucky thrummed with want. Oh god, this man, he was gone. So, so gone.

Steve crowded him like he couldn’t get close enough, wanting to touch every part of Bucky, like he craved him, needed him. It was glorious to be wanted so intensely, so thoroughly.

Bucky pushed forward, deepening the pressure and when his lips parted and their tongues touched, he hit nirvana. Could he climb into Steve, was that too much?

Steve's arms wound around him, pressing their chests together and Bucky couldn't help slot his knee between Steve's legs, feeling a rumble of approval through the blonde's chest at the new position.

God he wanted to get him alone, away from the public to do unspeakable things to his body, to make him growl and beg for more. Bucky felt himself harden and realised this probably wasn't the correct forum to proposition Captain America. But damn, did he want to.

The kiss didn’t last long enough, an hour would have been too quick, but they were in a walkway and Bucky felt his knees giving out at the perfection of Steve’s lips against his. Steve pulled back slowly, Bucky chasing him to leave another quick peck before Steve pressed his forehead against his for a moment, eyes sparkling and the biggest grin on his face.

“I didn’t want to wait either, glad you had more courage than me.”

Bucky grinned back, heart thumping in his throat at the intense sensations racing through his body. “That’s me, more courage than sense, or is that you?”

Steve laughed and pulled back as they continued their walk, the small hesitant glance all he received before a large hand captured his. Bucky preened.

“Do you have any idea how mesmerizing you are?” Steve started, and Bucky just stared in disbelief. “Smart, attractive and your sense of humour… you’re really funny, such quick wit, and listening to you interact with people at speed-dating was the highlight of my year.”

Bucky groaned, and once more face palmed himself internally. “So, that was you chuckling through my dates?”

Steve gestured to his ear, “well I _ do _ have super hearing. I honed in on your conversations early on, I couldn’t not, it was hilarious.”

“Thank god you’d left before I got to Darcy.” Bucky remembered waxing lyrical to her about how tight Steve's ass was when he walked away. He was infinitely glad to have not been overheard, as he was quite _ active _ in his enthusiasm for it.

“Oh really? And why is that?”

Bucky felt his cheeks flame, “I think it best I keep _ some _ secrets. You know, just to be fair, since I’m sure you have many of them yourself - gotta keep you interested.”

“I honestly don't think that's going to be an issue. At all." The blonde side-eyed Bucky who was enraptured at how gone Steve appeared on him as well. So he wasn't at all prepared for Steve's deadpanned question. "You and Darcy spoke about my ass didn't you?”

“Really? Steve, I have much more class than that…”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Ok yes, we spoke about your ass. But you know, it’s no secret - that _ is _ America's ass.”

The resulting groan made him laugh, “You know what - I really hate Scott for that. I really do.”

Bucky laughed and Steve squeezed his hand, a fond happy look on his face.

“He’s not wrong though.” Bucky quipped and tugged Steve’s hand until the blonde leaned over to kiss him again. Bliss, this was what bliss felt like.

Maybe, Bucky thought, _just_ _maybe,_ he wouldn’t kill Clint, not just yet anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget if you want to, check out [ The Impression(ist) I get](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288329) \- I promise you'll love it!!
> 
> Also, I'm on Tumblr if you're so inclined to see the huge amount of stucky trash I share at [ kalee60](https://kstargal.tumblr.com)


End file.
